Mande El Esqueleto
by Seamless
Summary: Broken...scarred...no longer the man he once was. As the ashes of his old persona are scattered to the wind, there is nothing left of him but another gun for hire. Cenizas a las cenizas, polvo al polvo...mande el esqueleto.


Disclaimer: I do not own Black Lagoon or any of its characters, settings, and other material.

**.:Mande El Esqueleto:.  
__****"Enter the Skeleton"**

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**Chapter One::Dusk**

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* * *

So here he was, all dressed up and nowhere to go. The job had been a bust, and now his trigger fingers were once again left itching. Adjusting his tie, he absent-mindedly straightened his suit as he outstretched a hand to shake his employer's. His cold oaken eyes observed the smallest of flinches before Dutch returned the favour.

Making sure to mind his words, the owner of the Lagoon Company spoke to his best gunman. "Another job well done, Esqueleto. Revy, Benny-boy and I are heading over to the Yellow Flag, care to join us?"

Esqueleto didn't answer immediately, and Dutch felt his lips go dry. Esqueleto was a man that nobody cared to try and piss off. Not even Revy risked it anymore, not after that _incident_. The man looked more like a businessman at first glance, with a pitch-black suit and tie and formal dress shoes. There were two key factors that threw this off and gave away the identity of the man who was quickly becoming Roanapur's most renowned mercenary. First was the pair of small holsters hanging from the back of the man's waist, and second was the pure-white skull that perched over the man's face. It was a mask, of course, but it was what lurked underneath the mask that gave most men the shivers.

Standing before him was the man formerly known as Rokuro Okajima, otherwise known about Roanapur as Rock. Once a pacifist by nature, he was now replaced by Esqueleto, named for the mask he now wore at all times. Only one person alive dared to still refer to him by Rock, and that person was his partner. Rebecca 'Two-Hands' was the only person in the world that could get away with it too, not even Balalaika dared to anymore. That was proven after several successive missions in which a simple slip of the tongue on her part resulted in the closest thing to an open threat that Esqueleto would ever give and the slaughtering of two dozen Somali pirates attempting to get a hold of the cargo.

Even as the possibilities raced through Dutch's head as to what the heartless killer in front of him would do, Esqueleto's mind lay elsewhere. It had indeed been a while since he bothered to take a break, and perhaps this time he might leave without having to spray brain matter over Bao's ceiling. Eventually, after a few more drags from the cigarette had lessened the twitching of his hands, he nodded mutely to his true employer.

It wasn't as though he didn't care about his employers; it was that he hated how they kept trying to cut his payment back. That was why he no longer took jobs from the Cartel and that was why he only took jobs from Balalaika when she had a damn good reason for him to. He walked at a leisurely pace to his own car, having long since forgone using Benny's old Plymouth. A pitch-black Camaro with a single silver stripe running down the centre of the hood, its defining feature was the single skull that existed on each door. This car had already taken more bullets than most armoured cars, but he loved it like a brother, though the ever-increasing repair fees came ever closer to bankrupting him.

The drive was short, and he noted the usual lack of activity that came with his patrols down the street. He was something of a vigilante, and probably the only honourable criminal here besides Chang. As he pulled up to the bar which the Lagoon Company had designated as their debriefing site, a mop of purple hair signified the one annoyance he doubted he ever wanted to get rid of. Revy seemed particularly vindictive, as her greeting might have led him to believe, "Hey Rock? How's it going Rock? Anything new Rock?"

He sent a haphazard glare towards her, knowing it wouldn't shut her up anyways. Benny sent a tentative nod of acknowledgement to him, which he returned. Dutch took the lead with the other two at his sides while the masked murderer brought up the rear. As the doors parted to reveal their favourite bar, they were greeted by the usual atmosphere. Organized chaos sounded out as his eyes darted back and forth from behind his mask. The jaw on it lowered to let him eat, he had made sure to include these sorts of things when he had it made.

They took the usual seats in front of the counter, and before they could even order the first round had been placed in front of them courtesy of Bao. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his shoes, he was interrupted before he could take his first sip. A fully grown man, bulging with muscles and with a shotgun slung over his shoulder began to approach the diminutive killer. The haughty air around him gave away his true nature though; this was a greenhorn looking to make a reputation fast. He had best hope he knew his vocabulary though, it wouldn't take much to get Esqueleto to kill him.

Almost as a warning, Revy already had her hands on her Cutlasses; the pair of customized Beretta's gleaming under the lights of the bar. The man in question slapped his hand down in front of Esqueleto as he moved to grab his drink before immediately placing his face mere inches away from the man's. His breath stunk of cheap whiskey, even as he slurred out his threats, "So what's a freak like you doing around here? I didn't know the circus was in town."

Immediately the bar began to quiet as the greenhorn observed the brown-haired assassin's non-existent reaction. He frowned, before suddenly swinging his shotgun around and pressing it to the masked man's temple. In a flash Revy had trained her pistols on the man, speaking in low, soft tones. "Now listen here pal, you really don't know what you're doing. You're obviously new around here, so I'm going to give you this one chance to just leave and go back to your drink."

The man leered at her, ignoring her veiled concern for the complete stranger. Her tone wasn't meant to placate the burly man, it was meant to placate the man who had once been the only living person in Roanapur. He had killed for a lot less, and as his hands twitched twice she replaced her guns in her holsters and shut her eyes. She knew too well what happened after that.

The man, still ignorant of the incoming danger to his life, once more rumbled out an insult. "Need your lady friend to fight your battles freak? Didn't know you were a pus-" sadly, he didn't get the opportunity to finish the insult. Esqueleto had already drawn a single gun and fired thrice as it came upwards. Before the man could even blink he had a bullet in his foot, his chest, and his forehead. Even as this occurred, not once did his expression change. Esqueleto remained as passive and neutral as ever as the body dropped loudly to the floor, the shotgun clattering uselessly with it.

The shots were silenced, made to make the sound just a little easier to bear in close proximity. Lady Luck and Miss Fortune were always with him, and they had saved his life countless times. A pair of USP .45 Tactical pistols, Praiyachat himself had marvelled at their design. They were of the skeleton's own creation, needing only the old gunsmith's special touch to make them truly personal in the form of two military-grade suppressors to make the noise a bit more bearable. Replacing Lady Luck in her holster, he calmly took his first sip of his beer and revelled in the burning sensation it gave.

As expected, the man's fellow greenhorns rose to occasion. Shouting and cursing the skeleton of a man, the sound of drawn guns echoed through the now silent tavern. He didn't respond as they slowly advanced on him, or even when he heard the last of the bullets enter the chambers. He sure as hell reacted when the first of them placed their finger on the trigger. This was what truly made him a feared gunman, his speed. Revy was still known as the most fearless and quite possibly the most deadly gun in the dead city, but Esqueleto was the fastest.

How he knew when his opponent had their finger on the trigger, nobody knew. All that mattered was that the fight never had a chance to start. Lady Luck and Miss Fortune sang a single song to each of the greenhorns, a lullaby that left them forever asleep. That was the only downside to the pair; you had to make each bullet count due to the low clip capacity. An unusually quiet peace returned to the bar as nobody minded the corpses. Seeing a corpse in Roanapur was like seeing a seagull on the ocean after all.

As the last of the burning liquid emptied down his throat, he felt the buzz dull his mind slightly. Standing up, he checked the time on his wristwatch before sighing lightly. He was already late for his appointment. Shoving the stool none too softly into the bar, he turned on his heel and swiftly left the bar.

* * *

Balalaika wasn't ordinarily one to be kept waiting. Quite the opposite, showing up at any time other than _on time_ tended to be a death wish. However, she had little choice but to allow an exception in her second favourite gun for hire. Two-Hands would always be first, she was just too interesting to be anything else. Esqueleto, however, was a man whom she had yet to figure out.

From simple business man to heartless murderer…where was the transition? Was all that nobility and chivalry simply a ruse for the darkness that lay underneath? Or had the shock of the _incident_ truly been so great? It was a delightful conundrum to ponder, when the man wasn't present of course.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft clattering of shoes against the tiled floor of Hotel Moscow's headquarters. Slipping a smile onto her face, she greeted the man with her usual contained enthusiasm. "Esqueleto, how nice of you to drop by. I do hope you realize you're late, I would hate for you to not know why you were docked five percent of your pay."

The man frowned behind his mask, but his hands remained still. "Of course, my apologies for the tardiness Ms. Balalaika. I had some…cleaning to do…" It was a clear enough reference to the business in the bar. "I do hope you realize that I will be charging a ten percent increase on this contract for the sudden increase in cargo you placed upon me during your last request, however. It would be a terrible example if the Lagoon Company were thought to be easy to skimp out on a payment or if they were willing to let any unscheduled surprises go so easily."

Score one for him, the smile slipped from her face for the briefest of moments before it returned full force, as she replied with no small amount of cynicism. "Of course. Are you aware of the job's full details then?"

"Naturally." He responded, his posture stiff as a board. "When is the cargo to be delivered by?"

Her smile became predatory. "It's due next week, in America. I'm sure you're familiar with San Francisco.


End file.
